As I stand,a spectator to the souls that surround me, I can't help but wonder whether my individualistic tendencies are simply indulgent acts of reversed conformity. I am no more special or unique than the slightly chubby girl with a red streak gracing the back of her head. What separates me from her? Different aspirations, views, hopes, goals, and gender perspectives; I suppose. Still, as any of us do, she as well must arbor ambitions of greatness. Or, does she? Perhaps mundane satisfaction is enough to appease her daily needs. Maybe there is nothing more to it. In actuality, she may never even have considered the possibility that she can make a difference in the way this universe unfolds. Behind a veil of ignorance, would we not want the same things? A quarter pounder of truth.
I am curious to know if my delusions are precisely that - delusions - or if they are in fact - drives in proposed excellence.
As a robust man runs past me to chase his beautiful girlfriend, I contemplate our similarities, or lack their of. Do we share any unqualified inherent properties that might make us kindred to one another? Or, do we simply have nothing in common except the primitively masculine impulse to get laid? I, by my cherished wife, and he, by any random callet willing to make a one hit wonder.
My replacement Spanish teacher; a man who has had to take over one of his close friend's class after his unexpected and recent death; what about him? Our cultural differences are apparent, but what if I had been born in Peru? Would I then seem closer to his existence?
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